Buckshot moon, bloodshot heart When are the good times going to start Burned out mouth, a turned out light It's a downhill road, it's an uphill fight Smoke on the glass in a twilight town Needle says empty but it's still going down On a five bar street in a one church town Twelve bar blues, frost on the ground Hard time wind on the hill tonight Main streets shining with Chistmas lights In the skyline dusk in the dark come down The seconds are broken but the hands go around And the snowfall comes with nightfall black Ice on the banks dust in the tracks Sere and gray as embers and cold But burning the branches are dreaming of gold How long, how long Until anything sets me on fire How long, how long Until I know Possession from desire